


If You Want Blood

by captainangua



Series: SPN spec ficlets [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Demon Blood Addiction, Gen, Mark of Cain, Men of Letters Bunker, Protective Sam Winchester, Sam On Demon Blood, angsty thinking between episodes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-03
Updated: 2014-05-03
Packaged: 2018-01-21 18:51:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1560491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainangua/pseuds/captainangua
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam hadn't expected the hunger to return like this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If You Want Blood

**Author's Note:**

> Something I submitted for bittersamgirlclub.tumblr (a cute one for sam fans, go follow) on their May theme Sam & Blood. Because the next episode promo scared me and lack of Winchester communication frustrates me, this happened.

Sam was mostly just confused when he felt the old need clawing at him again. Because he was just sitting in the bunker - they hardly had a demon bleeding out on them next to the bookcase. And the craving was stronger than anything he’d felt in years, because this time he knew that whatever it was he was aware of was something new. His first reaction was, as always, to draw in a deep breath and bite down on his lip, before looking around him.

“See something you don’t like there, Sammy?”

Sam blinked and focused on the words directed at him, the mouth forming them. The source he was now desperately trying to hold himself back from.

Dean who was now raising an eyebrow at him, in more of an expression of humour than Sam had seen from him in weeks.

“It’s uh,” Sam cut himself off with an awkward cough. “It’s nothing.”

Oh, but it wasn’t nothing. The fact that his brother had just given himself a paper cut made Sam want to suck at his blood because it smelt like demon blood to him now? Not nothing.

Great. There wasn’t even a way Sam was sure he could tell Dean about this, warn him. He wasn’t sure what Dean thought had happened to his old addiction, if it had just faded with time, or vanished thanks to Cas’ resurrection. Dean had never asked him about it. But of course it hadn’t ever really left him – it still took physical effort, every damn time the opportunity arose. But he’d got good, so good at blocking it out – exercise helped sometimes. Occasionally alcohol, if he was desperate. But nothing he did ever conquered it completely – not even the trials, like he’d hoped they might eventually. _Purified_. That’s what he’d hoped for, prayed for.

And Dean wouldn’t want to hear anything he had to say, especially not now… now that his voice had deepened even further, now that his eyes were cold, even when he smiled - not now that his blood had started to _sing…_

“I’m, I’m gonna go… get a drink or something,” Sam muttered as he made it to his feet, eyes lowered. “You want anything?”

After what felt like a short age, Dean shook his head briefly, and Sam turned to walk away from him, inhaling raggedly. Even as he walked further away he could still practically _taste_ it on his tongue, it was a scent so much more powerful, more pungent than that of ganking a run-of-the-mill demon. But he was fine, he reminded himself as he made it out of the room. Didn’t he always get through this? Even when Bobby and Dean had left him locked in the panic room that first time and he’d felt desperate enough to start clawing at his own veins… he’d got through. He’d survived.

Yeah, Sam would be fine. But he was beginning to worry about his brother, and that red mark burned into his arm.


End file.
